


How to Have Your Cake and Eat It Too

by moonside



Series: Starstruck [3]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Blowjobs, Celebrity AU, Cuddles, Fluff, Inappropriate Use of Icing, M/M, PWP, Promptis - Freeform, disgustingly sappy shit, self-indulgence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-30
Updated: 2017-08-30
Packaged: 2018-12-21 16:25:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,402
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11948091
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moonside/pseuds/moonside
Summary: Prompto finds fanart on the internet and realizes oh shit, it's Noct's birthday~!(Celeb AU-universe self indulgence for our boy Noct!)





	How to Have Your Cake and Eat It Too

**Author's Note:**

> Numi and I figured we should offer up something for Noct's birthday. She drew [a thing!](https://twitter.com/Numinoceur/status/902774856604938240) and Prompto... well, he just so happened to stumble across fanart on the internet! Imagine that!

Noctis is curled all warm and happy in bed, in the midst of a delicious dream that involves his boyfriend and lots of slow, lazy kisses, when he’s awoken by, well, _his boyfriend._

 

“Noctis,” Prompto is saying, though, as arms curl around Noct’s waist from behind, dragging him up close against the heat of his boyfriend’s chest, “hey, sleepyhead. What’s your deal?!”

 

Noctis blinks groggily, and makes a sleepy, indiscernible noise. He instinctively presses back into the warmth that is Prompto’s chest, and draws his pillow up closer, cradling it up against his cheek, all soft and plush. It’s his day off, and for once, he didn’t have to bug Ignis to stop scheduling him stupid stuff. Noct absolutely plans on sleeping in.

 

His boyfriend, however, seems to have a different idea in mind. “ _Noct,”_ Prompto says, a little more urgently, and Noct feels the words rumble through him, they’re pressed so close.

 

“Mmm?” Noctis tries to reply, and it comes out a jumbled mess of sound as he tips his head back, tucking it neatly under Prompto’s chin, warm and cozy and very much content to fall back asleep like this.

 

“You didn’t tell me,” Prompto’s words are accusatory. “It’s your _birthday.”_

 

Oh. Noctis makes an unhappy sound, and he cracks an eye open, because he’s pretty sure he isn’t getting back to sleep here. At least not right away. “So what?” Noctis manages to say, his voice bleary, and he snuggles closer into Prompto’s chest, hoping that it’ll distract him, the way he’s wiggling back, making himself more comfortable.

 

It doesn’t work though. Prompto’s arms around him loosen, and he draws back a little. Harsh light fills the dark room, and Noctis grumbles and covers his eyes with the pillow, but Prompto only grabs it and pushes it asides. He waves his phone screen in front of Noct’s face. “Dude. All of Twitter’s going on about ‘happy birthday Noctis’ and you didn’t even _let me know?!”_

 

Noctis groans. His vision’s all blurry, and the image on the screen is floating in front of him, not quite visible yet as he tries to blink the sleep out of his eyes. “I don’t like my birthday,” Noctis offers up as an explanation, as if that changes the fact that he hadn’t told Prompto.

 

“Doesn’t mean I want to find out on the internet,” Prompto grumbles, “you could’ve just, y’know, said _‘by the way, my birthday’s coming up, don’t make a big deal of it’_ or something.”

 

Noctis sighs. He leans further back against Prompto, wiggling the curve of his ass right up into Prompto’s pelvis, in hopes of distracting him. Normally, it might be successful. Right now, though, Prompto’s honed in on this particular topic, and he’s not budging.

 

“Come on,” Noctis groans, “if I’d told you, you _would’ve_ made a big deal of it.”

 

“Maybe,” Prompto replies, evasively, “still didn’t want to realize when I saw fanart on Twitter, though.”

 

Prompto’s still holding his phone out for Noctis to see, and somehow the screen hasn’t shut off yet. Noct blinks a few more times, and the image comes together, as his eyes adjust. It’s actually… really good fanart, if Noct’s being honest. Really nice painting. It’s a mock photograph of him and Prompto, shoulders knocking together, lips locked in a cute kiss. It’s captioned ‘Happy Birthday Noct!” Noctis doesn’t ask who the artist is – honestly, he doesn’t need to know – but they did a damn good job. It’s actually… well, it’s a cute photo. Even if it’s _totally creepy_ that girls on the internet are still riding that Promptis ship thing they’re all into.

 

Totally fucking creepy.

 

“I just want it to be a normal day,” Noctis tries to explain, switching tactics, “it’s weird enough when I get attention… it’s even worse on my birthday, y’know?”

 

Prompto sighs, and he lets his phone fall from his fingers, settling on the bed next to them. He drapes his arm loosely around Noct’s waist again, and nods slowly, head dipping down to press lips into the crook of Noct’s neck.

 

“I guess I get it,” Prompto admits, with a laugh, “I’d probably get weird, too, if everyone in the world knew it was my birthday, too.”

 

Noctis laughs, soft and quiet, and tips his head, neck craning to press a kiss into Prompto’s cheek. “Just you wait. Yours is next month. You’ll get to experience it all first hand.”

 

Prompto makes a quiet groaning noise. “Fuck, you’re right.”

 

Noctis only laughs a little more. He reaches for the pillow again, propping it up under his head, eyes drifting shut again, now that the bright screen of Prompto’s phone is off. It’s still way too early to get up, after all, and Noct could definitely go for a few more hours of sleep.

 

“Still,” Prompto’s protesting, voice with a hint of a whine to it, “I didn’t get you anything. That makes me a _really_ shitty boyfriend, Noct.”

 

Noctis kinda wants to point out that there’s not really anything Prompto could get him. He’s a fucking celebrity, after all, a very rich one. Anything that he could possibly want, he simply goes out and buys without a second thought. What Noctis really wants, after all, is just a normal, quiet night in with his boyfriend, on his day off. And that’s exactly what he’s gonna get.

 

“You can let me sleep in,” Noct says, his voice taking on that slow, lazy, sleepy quality to it again. “Then we can order food and play video games all day, it’ll be perfect…”

 

Prompto sighs, but he nods, his arms tightening around Noct’s waist again, warm and comforting, making Noctis feel protected and safe and impossibly happy. “Whatever, dude. It’s your birthday, after all. If you wanna be boring, we’ll be boring.”

 

\---

 

When Noctis wakes again, he’s really goddamn happy to realize it’s well past noon. Prompto had drawn the curtains tighter, so the bedroom is blissfully dark. He rolls onto his belly, and for once, Noctis feels well rested and refreshed, warm and comfortable in their big, luxurious bed. Yeah, it’d be nicer if Prompto was there with him, a warm body for Noctis to stay curled around, but Prompto’s always been an early riser, even if he’s prone to stick around a while to cuddle.

 

Slowly, Noctis draws himself up out of bed. He stretches, back cracking with a popping sound, and he doesn’t bother with a shirt, simply padding down the hallway into the kitchen with bare feet and sleep pants slung low on his hips.

 

Prompto’s in the kitchen, and well, it’s kind of a mess.

 

Noctis leans in the doorway, wiping sleep from his eyes, hair mussed in every direction, as he watches his boyfriend at work. The sink’s full of dirty dishes, some half-heartedly rinsed off. There’s little specks of batter all over the countertop, It _smells_ good, though. And of course, there’s Prompto, wearing one of Noct’s t-shirts and a pair of tight jeans, leaning over the counter, tongue stuck out in frustration as he squeezes a tube of bright blue icing over the top of a lopsided looking cake he’s decorating.

 

“Hey,” Noctis says, breaking the silence, because Prompto hasn’t noticed his presence yet.

 

Prompto nearly jumps out of his skin, and he makes a quiet _eep!_ noise, a giant glob of icing squeezing from the tube he’s got in his hand.

 

“Noctis, holy shit, you _scared me_ ,” Prompto says, immediately followed by – “oh fuck, the cake, I messed it up!”

 

Noct tips his head, and he simply watches, as Prompto reaches for a spatula and attempts to smooth over whatever this supposed mistake is.

 

“You made me a cake?” Noctis says, slowly, and he draws away from the doorframe he’s leaning against, sauntering into the kitchen properly. This time, Noct’s the one to get up behind Prompto, to curl his arms around his boyfriend’s waist from behind, chin settling neatly on his shoulder. “You could’ve just bought one, y’know. Or ordered one.”

 

Prompto relaxes back against Noctis, and sighs audibly. “Duh. I know that, dummy. Uncle Cor used to bake me a cake every year though. It’s kinda important, y’know, to have a homemade cake for your birthday. Tastes way better than the stuff from the store.”

 

Noctis laughs a little, and he mulls that one over, as he presses lips into Prompto’s neck, right below his ear, tongue working over a sensitive little spot that he knows will make his boyfriend squirm in his arms. He has to admit, the whole kitchen smells absolutely delicious. The cake itself is lopsided, the icing a bit uneven, and the writing is messy, a simple “Happy Birthday Noct!” with a sad little illustration of a fishing pole and a big fish hooked at the end.

 

It's absolutely the most fucking endearing thing anyone’s ever done for him.

 

“Fuck, I love you,” Noctis says, abruptly, as he eyes the cake, and his arms tighten around Prompto a little more. He’s got one hand splayed right across Prompto’s belly, fingers stroking over his abdomen, feeling the muscle clench and tighten even under the soft fabric of his t-shirt. Noct presses a rougher kiss to Prompto’s neck, tongue tracing up over the sensitive shell of his ear, and Prompto sighs louder, ass pressing back.

 

“Better,” Prompto grins, and he cranes his neck to the side to nuzzle into the softness of Noct’s hair. “Just slaved over a hot oven for hours making you a cake, y’know.”

 

“Yeah?” Noct draws back, just a little, teasing, his eyes bright and sparking with mischief, “looks like a cake explosion in here. You gonna clean the kitchen up, too?”

 

“Nope,” Prompto says cheerfully, grinning, “That’s Ignis’s job. Maybe if you ask nicely he’ll hire us a maid for your birthday.”

 

Noctis laughs, and it’s infectious, and soon they’re both descended into giggles, clinging together in the disaster that is currently Noct’s very messy kitchen.

 

\---

 

Prompto plates up a couple of big slices of cake, after the pizza they’ve ordered arrives. They’re on the couch, and because it’s Noct’s birthday, Prompto absolutely agreed to the really shitty paranormal horror movie that he wants to watch. It’s a bad movie. Go figure, the famous actor’s guilty pleasure is really bad movies with terrible acting and cheesy plots and every bad trope in the book.

 

They pause the movie though, to eat their slices of cake, and Noctis has to admit, it’s actually really damn good. He scoops a forkful of the cake into his mouth, and it’s fluffy and delicious, little crumbs falling to scatter all over his chest as he eats.

 

“You’re making a mess,” Prompto teases. He’s practically sprawled in Noct’s lap, their legs tangled, as he eats his own cake. “Don’t make me lick the crumbs off you.”

 

“Hey, it’s my birthday. I’m not complaining,” Noctis laughs.

 

At that, Prompto gets a _look_ in his eyes, and Noctis doesn’t know if he’s intrigued or alarmed, or maybe he’s just both. Either way, his boyfriend’s turning around. Plate balanced in one hand, the other’s lifting, pressing Noct’s back up against the armrest of the couch. Prompto shifts, until he’s straddling Noct’s waist, and even with the oversized leather couch, it’s a tight squeeze, Prompto’s thighs pressed close to either side of Noct’s.

 

“Yeah? You know what comes after the birthday cake, right?” Prompto says, and there’s heat in his voice, one that’s got Noctis very interested, certain parts of him stirring to life.

 

“Dunno. You gonna sing me happy birthday?” Noctis teases.

 

“Mmm,” Prompto agrees, “gonna hum it with your cock in my mouth.”

 

If Noctis was interested before, he’s _definitely_ interested now. There’s heat already pooling in his belly as he lifts his hips, all instinct, trying to get a bit of friction. Prompto’s teasing though, all clever little smiles. There’s a moment of precarious balance, where Prompto’s leaning to the side to set his plate of half-eaten cake aside, but not before he drags his fingers through it, swiping a big glob of sticky-sweet icing off the top.

 

Noctis groans when Prompto’s lips descend on him, chasing the ridge of his collarbone, tongue dragging over sensitive skin. He makes a more urgent noise when those same lips close around a nipple, teasing it with talented teeth, working Noct’s sensitive skin into a little erect bud. Prompto makes a quiet, satisfied noise, and keeps working down.

 

The first swipe of sticky fingers across Noct’s belly startles him. It’s enough that he’s lifting himself up, one hand tangled in Prompto’s hair, the other braced against the side of the couch as he looks down. Prompto’s scooting back, head ducking lower, and he’s grinning like a fucking maniac as he drags icing-covered sticky fingers over the defined planes of Noct’s abdomen. The icing stands out stark against his pale skin, against his belly that’s already heaving, and somehow, that’s just more fire coursing all through Noctis. He’s already fucking half-hard in his pants, and Prompto’s just teasing.

 

“I wanna have my cake and eat it too,” Prompto offers up, when he notices Noct’s eyes on him. He tips his head up, and his eyes sparkle bright and pure mischievous evil. Prompto knows exactly what he’s doing, after all, and Noctis can only sigh, fingers tightening in Prompto’s blonde spikes, as his boyfriend’s tongue traces the line his fingers left, lapping away the sticky icing with smooth, wet strokes.

 

“Prom,” Noctis groans, and he feels like he should maybe say something more eloquent. Prompto’s tongue has reduced him to a needy mess though, already, and it’s funny really, how much power he holds in this situation. Noct’s never been the type to seek out companionship, he’s never been the type to fall in _love,_ but holy shit, he loves Prompto so damn much, all he can do is lift his hips and silently plead for more.

 

Prompto sits back, just a little, and gives Noctis a very good view of him lifting his sticky fingers to his lips, tongue darting out, curling slow and lazily around each digit, lapping away the final traces of icing. His eyes never leave Noct’s, fixed on him intent, silently communicating a million different things.

 

“Tastes good,” Prompto says, and his words are almost innocent, _almost,_ but Noctis recognizes that tone. He recognizes that heat in Prompto’s eyes, in his words, and it goes directly to his erection. Even with the loose pants, there’s a distinct bulge between Noct’s eyes. Prompto breaks the gaze, slowly, but only to drag his eyes appreciatively down Noct’s bare chest, to fixate on his very prominent erection. There’s a little damp spot against already dark pants, right at the tip, and Noct knows his boyfriend well enough to notice how Prompto’s breath hitches, just for a moment.

 

“You know what tastes better?” Noctis teases, and he lifts his hips, invitingly. He doesn’t really need to, of course, because Prompto’s already moving, fingers dipping under the band of his pants and tugging them down, freeing Noct’s already aching erection. Noctis sighs, arching his back as best as he can, showing off a little, as his cock settles heavily on his belly, precome already pearling at the swollen tip.

 

“Dunno. Nothing really tastes better than cake, Noct,” Prompto teases back, voice light, but he’s still scooting back, settling himself comfortably between Noct’s thighs and propping himself up on an elbow as he leans forward. His hair tickles over Noct’s thighs, against his pelvis and over his tummy, but Noct’s immediately distracted by that with the first wet drag of Prompto’s tongue over the sensitive underside of his cock.

 

Prompto’s always had an oral fixation. Noct’s damn well aware of that. Somehow, though, Prompto just seems to get _better_ at this every fucking time they do it – and really, they do it a _lot._ Noctis is torn, as he always is, because he wants to toss his head back, to close his eyes and simply ride out how fucking good it feels. He can never resist watching though, and he’s _always_ rewarded, because somehow, Prompto likes to put on a show just as much as he likes to get his lips stretched wide around a cock.

 

This time is no exception. Noct’s eyes are burning, his gaze smoldering, as he watches Prompto work, watches those lips get sealed around the head of his cock. Prompto’s tongue flicks wet and heavy over the sensitive tip, dipping into the slit and lapping away the precome gathering there. And hell, his eyes keep flickering back up, meeting Noct’s gaze. It’s Prompto’s eyes, somehow, that are the best part of this, all lidded, already blissed out, wet around the edges and so fucking needy, even as tears start to prick and run down his cheeks as he starts to move.

 

Sometimes, Noctis tries to hold out, tries to make it last forever. Right now though, it’s Noctis’s birthday, and he’s chasing his release. There’s already a tight knot of desire in his belly, just from that silly little play with the icing across his stomach. Prompto’s not wasting any time either, taking Noctis as deep as he can, until the head of Noct’s cock bumps the back of his throat, until he’s buried almost to the hilt in the velvety tight wet heat. One hand shifts underneath, playing with Noct’s balls, rolling them hot and heavy with talented fingers, then further back still, to press into sensitive places that have Noctis writhing and twisting, his aching cock twitching and leaking.

 

Prompto _hums,_ and maybe it’s that stupid little birthday tune, maybe not, because Noct can’t make out the tune of it. What he _does_ feel is the vibration, going into the very root of him, twisting that knot in his belly. It’s pleasure coursing all through him, making his muscles tense and his thighs tremble, and his fingers scrabbling for purchase desperately as he scratches at Prompto’s head, grips at his hair, guides him.

 

Prompto likes being touched that way, and it only spurs him on, till he’s bobbing his head, messy and fast, precome and saliva glistening on his cheeks and his chin. The room is silent, except for Noct’s panting and quiet moans, and the wet messy sounds of his cock sliding down Prompto’s throat. Prompto makes a _noise,_ as Noct goes particularly deep, tugs at Noct’s balls, and it’s _over_ way too fast.

 

Noct’s orgasm almost takes him by fucking surprise, it hits so fast and sudden. He’s gasping and twitching, hips jerking forward as he bursts down Prompto’s throat. Prompto, bless his fucking soul, he works him through it, swallowing messily, massaging Noct’s balls until he’s milked them empty. He keeps his tongue dragging over the bottom of Noct’s cock, keeps suckling on the oversensitive head until Noctis is twitching, until it practically hurts, and then Prompto’s drawing away to press wet, messy kisses all along the skin of Noct’s inner thigh instead.

 

Noctis is boneless and panting, sprawled awkwardly against the couch for several long moments, as Prompto works his lips up over twitching, trembling belly, to press a soft kiss right over Noct’s heart.

 

“Happy birthday,” Prompto says, quietly, with a very satisfied-sounding laugh.

 

“Maybe birthdays aren’t so bad,” Noctis admits, breathlessly, as he lifts an arm to curl around Prompto’s waist, to tug him closer. Prompto sighs, and Noct follows suit when he feels the press of Prompto’s cock against his thigh.

 

“Noct, your birthday reads like a bad fanfiction,” Prompto replies, but he can’t quite keep his expression serious as Noct grinds his hip up, pressing delicious friction into Prompto’s cock through the jeans he’s wearing.

 

“That’s what happens when you’re famous,” Noctis teases, “you get lots of weird fans doing stuff for your birthday,” and now it’s his turn to press kisses into Prompto’s jaw. He tips his head, eyeing the cake, and the mess of sticky-sweet icing that’s still there, and _oh,_ could they have fun with this… after all, it’s Noct’s birthday, and there’s still a good deal of it left.

 

“Just wait till October,” Noctis adds, “when it’s _your_ turn.” and Prompto sighs, leaning in for a proper kiss, their lips tangling. Prompto tastes like sex, all salty and bitter, hints of the sweet cake still there too, and Noct decides that just maybe, all weirdness aside, he likes his birthday after all.

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for indulging me. I absolutely love this AU-verse that we've created, and I just love writing these boys so fucking much!! Happy Birthday Noct, we will see part 2 of this in October, i'm sure, when it's Prom's day~!


End file.
